Taisetsu na
by Kalira69
Summary: Hinata thinks on the strength and beauty in things that have once been broken. (NejiHina Week, Day 3)


Written for NejiHina Week, Day 3: Shattered.

大切な (taisetsu na) - precious (as in important, treasured)

* * *

Hinata steps inside and closes the door behind her with barely a rustle, despite the heavy formal kimono she wears. Too long as a ninja to be any less careful, she thinks, then wonders if she hadn't learned to be silent long before the Academy.

She puts down the gift she had been presented with over the meeting - disguised as an only mildly format tea - with the Hyuuga elders. It _is_ lovely, whatever the message it had been meant to convey. She slips off the thick obi and outermost layer of her kimono, setting them aside carefully, then picks up the bowl again, humming softly.

Hinata turns it over in her hands, tracing the patterns of cracks where gold has been used to meld the shattered pieces of pottery back into one whole. The bowl had clearly broken starting at the upwards, a near solid patch of the gold revealing what had probably been a crushed edge, and the patterns remind her of a branching plant, reaching upwards.

She glances at herself in the mirror across the room and smiles knowingly, thinking that yes, some things are even more beautiful after they have been broken and remade.

The little smile does not grow, but turns warm and secretive as Hinata remembers the warnings she had been given before her wedding - by the supposedly informal council of elders, by her father, even by the aunt who had stood in for her mother. She thinks. . .

Yes, some things are more beautiful, even stronger, after they are remade, and being broken is not always such a bad thing.

Hinata looks out the window into the clear space in the middle of her garden. Neji is there with their daughter, correcting her stance gently and steadying her before she can stumble with her poor balance - like Hinata, her natural tendency is to turn her knees in a little too far, though she extends her arms a little too high in a manner Neji had confided he had needed to train himself out of as a child. Neji stops her practise to collect her hair into a smooth ponytail so it stops smacking her in the face when she whirls too quickly.

Neji looks up suddenly and meets Hinata's eyes through the window. Hinata grins and waves to him, and he smiles before turning his attention back to their daughter.

Hinata lays aside the layers of fine kimono she had worn to attend tea, changing into more comfortable everyday clothes. One should not trust unwarily that a thing shall never be broken, and one should remember that some things are more beautiful for the history of them, breaking and mending and _living_.

She walks out to the garden to join her little family, stopping at the edge of the cleared practise space, near a bobbing vine of morning glories. Neji comes to her side, catches her hand and kisses her palm, and Hinata moves in close and kisses him lightly in greeting before listening to him praise their daughter's progress. His lips curve in a gentle smile as he speaks.

She flushes - it comes over her as easily as it does Hinata, poor thing - and nearly vibrates with pride under her father's praise, and Hinata has to kiss him again.

Neji smiles and rests their brows together for a moment, his eyes warm.

Hinata is not foolish, does not trust unwarily, but she _does_ put her trust and love in this. Her family. Her husband as he stands at her back, her fiercely protective shadow.

Hinata thinks of the gifted bowl and the message the elders had perhaps meant to impart, thinks of the girl she had been and the woman she has become, thinks of how long it had taken her to learn to see the cracks in herself as something worthy of beauty. She glances at Neji and thinks . . . he has them as well, perhaps the cracks running through Neji are even rougher and thicker than her own. But they are old and smooth where he has fitted himself back together, stronger and steadier.

Their relationship, the love between them, has a shatter pattern of its own. It is marked by a time when Hinata knew little of the . . . darker side of their clan, a time when Neji was struck down for not knowing or keeping his place _beneath her_ , a time when Neji's father died and Hinata's had been cruel, a time when Hinata could not so much as meet Neji's eyes . . . a time when Neji had nearly killed her.

The elders seem to think Hinata has forgotten these things, and more, that she needs reminding - that Neji is somehow dangerous or volatile.

Dangerous, yes, Hinata thinks as she watches their daughter mimic her father's favourite kata, which is far too complex for her yet. Neji is smiling at her, though she is failing at it rather badly. Deadly dangerous . . . but to Hinata? To their family? Never.

Hinata thinks the elders have not learned their own lesson well enough.

They may never do so, certainly Hinata thinks they seem not to wish to learn anything more, but Hinata will never forget.

What is shattered may be remade, and what is remade may be the most beautiful thing in life.

A stumble, feet tangling at the end of the kata, and Hinata steps forwards and scoops their daughter up in her arms and tickles her, delighted at her giggles. Hinata bursts into surprised laughter as Neji catches them both into his arms and spins them in the air before bringing them carefully down and close once more. A kiss to their daughter's brow, and another for Hinata's cheek, and Hinata cups his jaw with one hand, thumb stroking his cheek.

Neji quirks a brow at her. "What is it?" he asks, arm tightening briefly around her waist, and Hinata smiles.

"I love you." Hinata says simply, and glances at their daughter as well. She giggles again and snuggles into Hinata's shoulder, clinging to her.

Neji's fingers smooth through Hinata's hair. "And I you." he offers quietly, head bowed close.


End file.
